Through His Life
by Kamika Farinas
Summary: My oneshot fics for prompts to livejournal's 100 Situations with character Greg Sanders as the claim. Different couples such as GregSara, GregCatherine, perhaps some GregNick some time in the future... Plus his friendships with the characters as well.
1. Queen Bee, Rating: T, Greg & ?

**Title**: Queen Bee  
**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters**: Greg Sanders? (to be revealed)  
**Prompt**: #19. Crazy  
**Word Count**: 602  
**Rating**: PG-13 for some curse words  
**Summary**: _Because he, Greg Sanders, was insane. There was just no debate on the topic._

All he could do was stare. After all, he'd have to be positively crazy to have feelings for her. Actually, the insanity comes after he acts on them. Which he won't. Because, really? It'd be mad to even acknowledge any attraction for that... woman! If he could even call her that. She was like their Queen. They all adored her and loved her and WANTED her and he'd be damned to be just another of the pack. So why, he asked himself, was he walking towards her right now?

Why?

Because he, Greg Sanders, was insane. There was just no debate on the topic. If there was ever something the entire lab wanted to agree in whole-heartedly, it was that he was clinically insane. But hey, that was their problem. THEY hired HIM. Insane or not.

And now he was about to prove their theory. For as all knows, a theory doesn't mean a thing until one proves it. Of course, he'd given signs of it several times over before. But this? This was definitely the last straw. This would just change it from being a theory to plain old fact.

He approached her, as she sat there, looking all regal and stuff. She probably had no idea just what type of air surrounded her throughout the day. And all she was doing was just... Sitting in the break room, reading a magazine and relaxing before getting results. And for a moment there, all he wanted to do was watch her. But really, wouldn't that be a tad strange? Not that he could speak.

And so no matter the nerves he felt at the very moment, he greeted her with his usual attitude. He tried to act normal, but could one really hide anything from a CSI? He felt as though the entire conversation was being watched at from all sides of the room and damn these rooms for all being made out of glass. Who was the genius that thought that up? Those people were criticizing each and every word out of his mouth and yelling at him, like one yells at the television, to say something different and be smoother, or slicker, or whatever they called it these days.

So, when he finally dropped the bomb of _Will you have dinner with me?_ or rather, he stumbled, _Breakfast considering it'll have to be off shift of course. Unless you know, we work late on a case. But breakfast would be our next meal._ And so forth and so on. He hadn't really expected her to smile back at him and accept. After all, she was the Queen and untouchable by anyone. Maybe she hadn't gotten that memo? He didn't care. She accepted and all he could do was gape at her in awe.

She laughed at him, as she was prone to do and teased him to shut his mouth, _otherwise flies would fly in and lord knows she didn't want that to be there. After all, what would be the appeal of that later in the day? Flies didn't taste so well, as far as she knew._ Of course, she knew that would shut him up. Her and her flirtatious manners. Greg didn't know what to do with himself, except to, of course, shut his mouth. She winked on her way out the door and as all men did, he stared at her departing back.

He supposed they'd be calling him crazy and insane and out of his damn mind. But for her, the Queen bee, THE Catherine Willows, he supposed he could stand to be a little insane.


	2. Closets, Rating: T, Greg

**Title**: Closets  
**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters**: Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #70. Alone  
**Word Count**: 828  
**Rating**: PG-13 for curse words, again.  
**Summary**: _He wasn't claustrophobic in the least._  
**Author's Note**: This was... Strange. I couldn't exactly decide where it was going but... I did like how it was going. I came up with it for alone but... wasn't sure if it would fit in the long run. Hopefully it does. XP

He wasn't claustrophobic in the least. However, being stuck in a closet by himself wasn't exactly the highlight of any day. Much less this one. And go figure he'd be stuck in one now. The whole ordeal was... bizarre to say the least. And he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to deal.

The entire place was dark and depressing and damp. Exactly what you'd expect of the hall closet that most people never went into. Except in THIS case, when someone mysteriously locks a certain lab tech into the closet. For what? Who knows. Probably because he played his music too loud this time. But hey, he wouldn't give in so easily. He'd play the tough guy.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Or maybe not. At least he could get out with his dignity.

"PLEASE HELP! ANYBODY!"

Again, maybe not. But at least nobody could say Greg Sanders was claustrophobic. He just hated to be alone. It had always been unpleasant to be by himself, but he supposed being a lowly lab tech, nobody would much notice. Even if he worked with CSIs. And this PERSON who had locked him into the closet must not have known as well because he was sure as hell going to kick his or her (he was a believer in being equal to both sexes) ass.

He especially hated when there was no NOISE. Which was typically a surprise in the lab because, seriously, this place had loads of noises. From the machines, to the people, to the videos being played in the background and in his case, music being played. It made him go into his own mind and he sure as hell hadn't been in there for a very long time. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. He used it all the time. Just not for his own thoughts.

Who wanted to really contemplate life when what you do for a living was death? The only thing he wanted was just not to be found dead doing something embarrassing. Although, he had to admit. There was rarely ever a chance of that. Despite his "big" talk, he was basically a boring guy. If he wasn't at work, he'd be at home. Then at home, he'd be sleeping, eating, drinking, maybe some occasional grunting, just the basics. He wasn't a liar, so to speak. He just heard a lot of things. You'd be surprised at the amount of things a guy hears. Nobody thinks he listens. But he does. He ABSORBS, after all.

Was that a noise at the door? The doorknob? No... he was imagining things. There was no noise at the door, he only hoped it.

He supposed his only desire was to not be found dead at his desk. That would be a hazard for sure. Although, he'd love to know how long it might take for them to discover he was dead there. The person who did it was surely the same person that locked him into the closet. He hoped it wasn't one of the CSIs. Although, if it was, he could just see it being Grissom being the one who did it. After all, the man had something against him after he noticed that Greg had been flirting with Sara a tad too much. However, he didn't care much for the way Grissom treated Sara. Grissom was just much too...

Greg shook his head in disgust. This was what happened when he let his mind wander. He would start contemplating everyone's relation to everyone else. Which is why he had to stop it short. He didn't want to think about these things.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

He screamed and banged against the door before he toggled the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned open and he swung the door. Blinking his eyes, he thought this was some sort of karma. He was killing himself to death by thinking too much. Yes, that was it. He hadn't realized that he had just shut the door behind him and just heard a click. A click didn't mean locked. It just meant that it had latched closed shut. He was just glad that nobody had seen him or heard him.

He turned to look at the open closet and sighed before closing it. He sure as hell didn't want a repeat performance, he thought to himself before settling himself onto his little stool and pressing the play button on his boom box. As strains of music flittered around him, he noticed a CSI leaning against the door frame, smirking.

Smiling at the routine and praying that nothing had been heard, he scuffled around his desk looking for the results. As he handed it to the male in question, Nick made a small comment, striding over to Greg, "Claustrophobic much?"

Greg groaned and dropped his head into his hands, listening to Nick laugh on his way out. Greg Sanders was not claustrophobic, damn it.


	3. Ghost of a Past, Rating: T, Greg & Sara

I just wanted to note that these stories aren't in any order... Just in case anyone was wondering. XP

**Title**: Ghost of a Past  
**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters**: Greg Sanders/Sara Sidle  
**Prompt**: #95. Disappear  
**Word Count**: 1030  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: _It took all he had not to cry which he wanted, but Greg Sanders would not be called weak._  
**Author's Note**: This was just... Sad. I don't know where it came from but sheer angst. tear Character death! Also, have no idea if I got Sara's characterization right. I've never really written her. XP

It took all he had not to cry which he wanted, but Greg Sanders would not be called weak. Sure, no one was around to hear it but he would. He would know and, of course, the female next to him. Whose short brown hair tickled the side of his face. And whose scent of a faint vanilla which she swore came from her shampoo, but he knew. He knew that was just all her. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around her in fear that he would lose her.

Half asleep, all Sara Sidle could manage to say was a half mumble of "Are you okay?"

Trying his best not to let his feelings be shown in his words, he said as strongly as he could, "Of course." Without a crack revealed, he felt very proud of himself.

She murmured an agreement and fell right back to sleep, leaving Greg alone with his thoughts, sleep being the farthest from his mind.

_"So... food after shift?"  
"Sure, why not?"  
"... Really!"  
"Gee, Greg. You don't need to sound so excited… You might just be giving away hints of your feelings."  
"I've never hidden my feelings for you, Sara."  
"Um... I'll see you after shift then."_

He trailed his hands along the side of her body, her back to him, and relished in the feel of her bare skin along his. She was soft, like a newborn baby's and he took every chance he could to touch her, no matter how short the moment would be. It was during times like this that he took the most attention towards her, a notion Sara had come to notice and could stand to ignore, especially when she was in dire need of some sleep.

As he touched each and every patch of skin, each stroke leaving him more and more depressed as he thought of what was to happen next.

_"So you show Sofia your place, but not me? I'm hurt."  
"It wasn't really a showing, so to speak. And anyway, you've denied each and every one of my offers."  
"Well, I didn't know you were showing it to other people."  
"So, I'm not allowed to show it to others. And not you either. Any other rules I don't know of?"  
laughs  
"..." laughs a little too "Wuh-why are you laughing!"  
"You are too!" laughs more  
"Only because you are!"  
giggles "You sound like a little child, Greg."  
serious "I'm the farthest from a little child." pause "I'm sorry..."  
serious "No need to be sorry… Let's try it again, shall we?"_

He touched the crook of her back gently and slowly made a path from there to the bottom of her neck. Soon, his hands weren't enough to remember her and he left kisses along the her shoulders as a way of leaving his own mark, no matter how short that time would be. His hands, during this time, were now in her hair. She was still dead asleep as he brushed her soft hair with his fingers, amazed at how silky it felt even if she denied taking care of it as much as she did.

It was always a contrast with his own hair, which only turned smooth when he was running it through water. Something Sara had discovered in the shower one day to her immense delight. She always loved his hair wet and frequently told him that he shouldn't put any gel in it or all those chemicals in it.

_"I could love you, you know?"  
"Only could? Well, that's a tad insulting. I COULD love you, but you know what, I don't really think I'm up to that point yet. Just like. Actually… Maybe lower than that. I don't really know."  
smack "Don't say it like that! You know. I've never really been able to love anybody. I've grown up not and I just... Just don't know how it's supposed to feel."  
"Well, I think that love is not something you can say anyway. It's in your actions. It's in the feeling of longing and desire for the other. The comfortability you feel in each other's presence. The fire you feel for one another. And there's much more. Much much more."  
"Do-do you feel that for me?"  
"Yes. Yes, I do, Sara."  
"How can you say it so simply?"  
"Because it's just that easy."_

His eyes shut as he stopped his worshipping of her. All he wanted to do now was just sleep there and hug her all he could. Suddenly, the feeling of another in the bed disappeared all together and Greg was struck by how lonely the bed felt. There wasn't another body sinking into the mattress along with his and nobody lay beside him. He sat up abruptly and felt around the blankets, as though expecting her to be there. His eyes watered as he grabbed the pillow beside him and held it up to his nose. He took in a deep breath and nearly broke when he smelt vanilla.

_"Greg... There's been an accident. Sara... She was shot at the scene by the suspect. It appears he came back."  
"Is... is she going to be all right?"  
"The doctor's say it's unlikely. She was shot-"  
"She's going to die?"  
"..."  
"Grissom! Tell me if she's going to die! Tell me the truth!"  
"... I'm sorry, Greg. She was pregnant too. Only a month along."_

Greg threw the blankets off of him and stumbled into the bathroom. He switched on the light and turned on the sink's water. Rinsing his face in the cold water, he shuddered at the feel. He forced himself to look into the mirror and only saw a pale version of himself, his eyes red with tears that had been shed but hidden, his hair messy without the upkeep it was used to.

Collapsing in the bathroom, he felt the tears come back to his eyes and this time, he didn't hold them back. In the quiet, safe of this room, he thought he could afford a good cry. If he was to be called weak, so be it. Greg Sanders had, after all, lost the love of his life.


	4. Show, Rating: T, Brass, Greg

The next 6 are part of a "series" that I dubbed "Through Their Eyes" in which Greg Sanders is the focus... But the main characters are the other 6 characters of CSI. Ironically enough, there's very LITTLE of Greg Sanders... But still centers him.

**Title**: Show  
**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters**: Jim Brass, Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #94. Old  
**Word Count**: 818  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: _He was getting OLD, is what the problem was._  
**Author's Notes**: Brass's Story. I have never written Brass. Have never even tried... And this is my first shot. Probably a little OOC but and a little bit confusing because to be honest, I didn't know exactly where I was going with it so... Hope it's okay.

It had started out as a joke. Some rookie cop had been rattling his mouth about how the CSIs were getting younger and younger as time went by and soon, they'd have teenagers running around solving crimes instead of causing them. Other cops laughed and agreed and as did Brass. Until suddenly the mood had been broken when that same cop mentioned how the same thing might be happening to the LVPD as well. As though to give a hint, he gave a side glance towards Brass' direction. Glaring, Brass only stated quite coldly, "If you spent more time working instead of yapping, maybe it could happen. For now though, I think I'm safe."

Quickly, the mood turned and the rest of group broke apart, mumbling excuses of work and what not. Brass huffed before downing a cup of coffee, that ended up being the coldest mush he had ever tasted. Disgusted, he stormed into his room, peeved beyond his mind for some reason he couldn't explain.

Soon, his phone rang and he had a case to solve, which meant the CSIs. Soon, he arrived at a Dance Club followed by Gil. Hanging around, he realized he couldn't seem to remember the last time he ever went dancing. Sure, he didn't like to dance, even as a teenager but when did he get so damn old! Did the years just pass by without his knowledge and force him into reality? Jesus, he even had an EX-wife and a daughter old enough to give her own body away. Where the hell had time gone? Then he realized, Gil was gone and he was left to interview the rest of the people at the club and time was passing once again.

But Gil returned soon after, just in the middle of his interview. And amusingly enough, there was the reason he was angry in the first place. So, he supposed it was no shock to himself that he snarked out a, "Hey, Gil. Wait. You've got something stuck to your shoe." As though not expecting a reply, he continued on, "Oh, no, it's just Sanders."

Greg looked at him strangely, a mix between a glare and amusement. Brass smirked at the reply and went on his merry way... as merry as interviewing anyone could be. He listened in on Greg and Gil's conversation as best he could without showing he wasn't really listening to his interviewee. It was when he heard Greg's comment of "I've never seen this place with the lights on before," that his fury came back to life. It was sorta like, DAMN this was just getting to be too much for him.

What the fuck was wrong with this world that he had to hear shit like that?

But he was getting off topic. He was getting OLD, is what the problem was. He didn't like the idea of having to give up his job because he couldn't do his job anymore. He could almost see it. Him, wrinkled and weak with very little ability of movement. Then seeing some young rookie, maybe even that brat cop who had been talking up a storm, getting the job he had worked too hard at.

Brass did have to admit. Time was going way too fast. Not that it was his fault or anything like that. It was just a natural progression of life.

He sat in his office, contemplating just where he was going with this. It really didn't matter that the CSIs were getting younger, was it? That really wasn't his problem. His problem was what he was going to do when he got too old for this job, which he had to admit was probably coming nearer and nearer. He didn't care that Greg was so young for a CSI. Hell, he had been too young to be a lab tech when he first entered and yet he still escalated to being the head DNA tech despite his age. If things went the same as they had then, Greg would definitely be up to Nick and Warrick's level in no time.

He had to say that he was fucking proud of the damn boy. Despite his annoying tendencies now and then, he had grown up since they had first hired him. Who cared about his age and shit like that. It was all the work he had put into everything.

He supposed that's where he was really getting at. Despite it all, age really didn't matter in this business. Hell, look at Grissom. He just hoped that he'd achieve a whole lot while he was still in his stand. And he sure as hell wanted to be around to keep watching Greg grow up even more. He didn't want to miss that show.


	5. Thinking Back, Rating: K, Grissom, Greg

**Title**: Thinking Back

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters**: Gil Grissom, Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #87. Genius  
**Word Count**: 714  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary**: _His first view of the boy was just.. he's YOUNG._  
**Author's Notes**: Grissom's Story. Unfortunately also my first try with Grissom. This whole thing is full of firsts so if the characters are in any way OOC (which they are bound to be) then I apologize and do tell me what's wrong so I can... learn from it? Yeah. That's it. Also, XP I kinda leave the ending sort of open-ended... All to your desire what you'd like to happen.

His first view of the boy was just.. he's YOUNG. Granted, Grissom supposed he shouldn't be one to judge. After all, he must've been younger than this Greg Sanders was when he received his first job. However, Gil could admit that despite his first instinct, the boy had extremely good grades and hightly praising references.

The boy himself, however, looked fairly nervous to be in the chair in front of him. He squirmed repeatedly, keeping his mouth shut.

Above his glasses, Gil eyed the boy, taking in what exactly he could. He didn't seem professional. Although for a recent graduate, he did clean up quite well. His hair was spiked up with its tips being a faint blonde but the rest a dark brown. He took off his glasses and blinked repeatedly. His clothes seemed fairly tame, though he wasn't used to applicants wearing a plain black t-shirt but nice pants at the same time. Greg sat tight-lipped, not certain of what he could do.

Gil nodded to himself, as though his study was well enough and told Greg that he was hired with pleasure and that the lab was right across from Grissom's own office. Greg, in return, thanked Grissom profusely before starting to get up and head to his home. Grissom stopped him when he reached the door and told the boy that they'd need some of his blood. Looking at his new boss awkwardly, Greg just nodded, apparently not trusting his voice to ask why.

He watched the new tech walk into his domain, smiling. He wasn't sure what made him think this, but he was certain that this new hire would be interesting in the years to come (if he lasted through the first week of hazing, that is).

His mind reeled as he brought himself back to present time. About 7 years after Greg was hired and here Grissom was thinking back to the time when he first hired the boy. Grissom sighed, before placing his glasses back on his face after a long moment of wiping them clean of lord knew what. He had been sitting in his office since he heard the news and refused to leave until he heard further news.

It hadn't been the same as with Holly Gribbs. Sure, she had been a part of CSI, but she was fairly new. He hadn't grieved as hard. With Greg Sanders, it was definitely different. The boy was a legacy of his own. He had been who Grissom had hoped would elevate to even Grissom's level, possibly further.

For such a young man, Gil had to admit that he was a genius. He had the capacity to learn more and still retain all he had learnt before. It was why Gil was more than happy to let Greg become a CSI. He knew that Greg would be able to take the job whole-heartedly and become a greater person with it. He just didn't understand why this had to happen to him.

There were always problems in the workplace. After all, hadn't that been how Holly died? But this time, it wasn't the same. Why? Because it hadn't occured in the workplace. It had happened while he was off duty. While he was driving home, after solving a particularly hard case. After Grissom himself had sent him home, knowing he was in dire need of sleep after pulling many hours. And he got into a car accident because of some drunk.

Grissom pounded his fists against the desk. It was his fault. If he hadn't sent him home. If he HAD sent him home but earlier to get some rest. If he had offered to give him a ride home like he had thought he should. He didn't understand what was going on. This was GREG SANDERS. He wasn't just anybody anymore. After many years working together, he guessed the boy had warmed up to his heart... Who knew?

Looking up, Grissom saw a figure open the door and enter. He stared, trying to keep his emotions in check as the person spoke, it barely registered who it was exactly. He only hoped for good news.


	6. Wishing, Rating: T, Catherine, Greg

**Title**: Wishing

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Characters**: Catherine Willows, Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #68. Smile  
**Word Count**: 606  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: _He had changed. That was the first thing she noticed._  
Author's Notes: Catherine's Story. More OOC? No idea... Judge for yourself!

She hated him. Not completely because god, if she didn't love that boy as much as she did, she wouldn't hate him as much as she did right now. If she hated him but didn't love him, she'd ignore the poor boy. It'd be like he was some kind of pebble in her shoe and she couldn't wait to get rid of him. However, that wasn't exactly how she felt for him... She wished she could describe it, but Greg Sanders was just so obvious that you couldn't missed him at all!

He had changed. That was the first thing she noticed. He wasn't Greg Sanders the lab tech anymore. He was Greg Sander the CSI. It was like he had a title change and suddenly, he wasn't the same person anymore. Gone was the care-free, kinda wacky Greg. He had turned into such a serious and depressing person ever since he became a CSI and Catherine half hoped that he hadn't taken that step to change jobs. Of course, she helped him right along but that was before she realized the consequences of such an action.

What she hated the most is that he had been the one that had cheered her up during shift in the first place. He cheered everyone up as a matter of fact. They didn't work together that often anymore so maybe he had gone back. But the few rare times that she did? He wasn't the same anymore. He didn't even make his COFFEE anymore which she had to admit, despite apparently being costly, was hellofadamn good.

Most of all, she missed his smile. That darling (a word she didn't often use) smile that made him even more adorable than before, which to be honest was a difficult thing to do. She never did tell him how much she loved to see him smile, and joke around. She wasn't IN love with him to be exact, but she did love him for sure. She had been so grateful for him for certain occasions that it was hard not to love him at all.

And she couldn't tell him. How exactly would that conversation go? 

"Hey, Greg. Did you know you don't smile anymore? Just wanted to tell you."

Oh, that would sure go over well. He'd probably bat an eye and tell her that things change. Or something similar to those lines. She didn't think she could take the rejection. Which was weird. Hell, Catherine Willows being "rejected" by Greg Sanders would probably be the biggest news in the lab. But how could she tell him that she missed his smile? That she missed the Greg that she and Grissom had worked hard to get hired despite his age? She supposed she'd have to live with it little by little...

She walked into the lab's break room after moping for awhile in her office, if that's what you could even call it. She found the coffee pot filled to the brim with new coffee, her being the first to get any and happily took it. Taking a sniff at the flowing steam, she recognized the coffee she was holding and looked around the room to find Greg sitting at the table, asleep with a bit of drool hanging from his lip. Catherine laughed slightly to herself. Maybe he'd come back his own way. Who knows? Maybe her Greg would come back, she thought as she took a seat beside him, sipping her coffee happily.


	7. Visits, Rating: K, Nick, Sara, Greg

**Title**: Visits

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Characters**: Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #37. Loud  
**Word Count**: 808  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary**: _He wasn't exactly a rock person, after all._  
**Author's Notes**: Nick's Story. Just didn't ever see Nick having a part in the explosion at all... Wanted to see his part. Kind of. XP Might not make sense... Which I apologize for completely.

If Nick had been told weeks ago that he'd miss hearing Greg's loud rock music playing through the place, he'd have laughed in their face. He wasn't exactly a rock person, after all. And yet, here he was, missing Greg Sander's usual blaring rock music. It had been a short time since the explosion and he couldn't believe that Greg had been pretty much caught dead center in it.

He guessed he should be happy that his close friend hadn't been worse off than he ended up being. He also thought he should count his own blessings that the rest of the lab was so lucky as well. Still... it didn't stop him from missing someone.

Sure, Nick hadn't been as close to Greg as he used to be. But, time does change some things and the bond between the two just slowly started to grow longer. He didn't know when it started exactly, but it had still escalated.

Nick paced the break room, wondering what he should do next. He had been the only one of the night shift to not visit Greg. A notion that he found everyone knew. But what they didn't know was that he felt guilt. Stupid, right? He had no reason to feel any guilt. He hadn't been the one to cause the explosion or had any part in it. Yet still the feeling persisted.

Maybe, he thought, it was all due to the fact that he hadn't been there to help. Or that he hadn't been around to point out little things, such as the hot plate being on, something he had always pointed out when he visited the quirky tech. Maybe because Nick frequently pointed it out, Greg himself had phased out the hot plate in his mind. But then Nick's visits lessened.

Actually, Nick couldn't remember the last time he had visited Greg, just for fun. To check out what the guy was doing that day/night. He couldn't remember joking with him about weird cases or talking about the latest games. When had they gotten to serious? When had they grown apart?

A voice stopped him in his tracks. "You're going to make a hole in the floor if you keep pacing that way."

Nick spun around to see Sara, looking as weary as he did, leaning against the doorframe. He sighed before slumping onto the nearest chair. 

She smiled briefly at him before taking a cup of the coffee that sat there. Taking a sip, she immediately spat it out into the sink nearby, "Ugh," she moaned, before dumping the entire cup into the sink. "I wish Greg would get back already. If only for his coffee."

Nick's eyes narrowed, "If that's the only reason you'd like him back, then maybe you weren't as close to him as you thought."

Quickly, Sara reared her head to look at him, "You must be joking, Nick." She glared at him from her spot, as she poured the entire coffee pot out. "You know that's not the reason I'd like him back. I was just trying to cheer you up. You looked down, but apparently all you'd like is a fight," she snapped.

He leaned back on his chair, staring up at the ceiling, and sighed, "Sorry, Sara."

"Apology taken."

Nick noticed the voice was coming from a spot closer than before and sat up to see Sara sitting in front of him.

She looked at him strangely before asking, "Why haven't you visited him?"

He stiffened at the question, "I don't see why it matters."

"It matters to Greg," she paused slightly before continuing, "He's asked about you, you know. He thought that maybe you were under some difficult case and it took your attention."

Nick frowned, "He's asked about me?"

Rolling her eyes, Sara said, "Of course he has. He thinks of you as his best friend. And for you not to visit at least once since he landed in the hospital hurts him. He does his best to push it off but... The boy is horrible at lying."

He sighed before getting up, "It has nothing to do with him. It's all me."

Laughing slightly, Sara commented, "You sound like you're breaking up with him. All I'm asking is that you visit him." She got up as well, and left the room without a backward glance.

Nick groaned and mumbled to himself, "Does she have to have the last word?"

Soon the male found himself in front of Greg's room which had strains of his music drifting out the door. Smiling to himself, he opened the door, "Hey, Greg. Sorry I haven't visited."


	8. Teacher, Rating: K, Warrick, Greg

**Title**: Teacher

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Characters**: Warrick Brown, Greg Sanders  
**Prompt**: #54. Patient  
**Word Count**: 280  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary**: _He wasn't used to teaching._  
**Author's Notes**: Warrick's Story. Blah. I didn't like this one like the other ones and it was also the last one I wrote... Mainly because I can't really get into Warrick's mind. (Well, not as much as the other characters). For that reason, it's also the shortest of the 6. If you like it... I'll find that an extreme accomplishment.

He wasn't used to teaching. He had done seminars and things like that, but to actually teach another person to do what came like second nature to him was a different story all together. And now Warrick Brown found himself in that exact position. He had been the last person left to help Greg learn how to be a CSI. Grissom, of course, had started it all with Nick right behind him. Although, Warrick thought chuckingly, it was also to Nick's benefit that he got Greg to help out. Catherine did her part soon after and Sara had always been helping out with Greg since she started... Well, not exactly since she started.

Now it was Warrick's turn. He wondered exactly how he was supposed to go about it. He wasn't exactly that close to Greg, even though the lab tech seemed extremely intune to each and every CSI. He supposed that he could always be rough and strict. Or maybe friendly and understanding. Or calming and... Whatever. This was utterly useless. He'd just have to deal with it as it came.

Suddenly, he realized that Greg was missing and sighed. Seconds later, his phone rings, as though reading his mind and Warrick answered it to find the missing man on the other side. He told him of his mistake and braced himself for what was to come.

He was right to be worried when he found Greg wearing a t-shirt and sneakers to the crime scene. Bracing himself, all Warrick knew was that although he didn't know how to approach this. He knew that he had one thing he would need. Patience.


	9. Taking A Shot, Rating: T,Sara, Catherine

**Title**: Taking a Shot

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Characters**: Sara Sidle, Catherine Willows, hint of Greg/Sara  
**Prompt**: #61. Chance  
**Word Count**: 905  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: _The boy had been so engrossed with the case that I thought any word I had said had gone in one ear and out the other._  
**Author's Notes**: Sara's Story. So my second attempt at Sara? Hopefully as good as the first attempt went. (Actually third considering Nick's story has Sara...) Also, this is the only one written in first person.

It took me a while to realize that Catherine had actually asked me that question and it hadn't been in my imagination. "That isn't any of your business, Catherine," I snapped angrily, wondering where she got the nerve to ask such a question.

"Chill, Sara!" The look of surprise on her face probably mirrored the one on mine from hearing her even say the word "chill." Since when did Catherine use words like that? She shook her head slightly before continuing, "It's not like I asked you what your sex life is like. I just asked what the hell you feel towards Sanders. Nothing fucking big that you'd have to snap at me like that."

I glared at her, not wanting to answer. Which I ended up doing by taking a big sip of my mildly warm coffee that had started out as being steaming hot when this conversation began.

She sighed, running her hand through her curly blonde hair, apparently frustrated with this conversation. She rolled her eyes as well, a movement I'm familiar with, before she started to talk again. "Look, Sara, I'd rather stay out of your business, but the boy's been moping for the past couple of days and it's been getting a little tiring."

Wanting to hear more, I asked, "Moping? About what?" I shifted in my chair, watching as Catherine pursed her lips, seemingly wondering whether or not she should tell.

Giving a little nod, which to me indicated that she decided to tell, she answered, "Something about a lost chance with you." She rose an eyebrow, a move that I still wish I could do, waiting for my response.

Immediately, I flushed. I had hoped that Greg hadn't realized that I had asked him out that faitful day he had passed his final proficiency. The boy had been so engrossed with the case that I thought any word I had said had gone in one ear and out the other. Apparently, I had been mistaken. I didn't try again after that, embarassed that I had even done something like that. "I... I..." I stuttered, trying to find my words as best I could. Half weary, I managed to put my thoughts together, "It isn't a lost chance... exactly. I mean, I hadn't meant it in the way it must've sounded but... I kind of did?"

Catherine sighed from across the table, shaking her head in despair, "Sara. I know this is difficult for you. You hate to talk about yourself." I started to protest against the statement, which led to Catherine glaring at me. "You DO. Don't try to deny the obvious. But honestly? If you like the damn boy-man, then just go for it. He's been pining after you for a long time and I'll be damned if he's going to stay moping just because he thinks there's no chance."

I looked at her for a long minute before laughing a little, "Boy-man? Catherine, where do you get your terminology?" She glared again before sighing for probably the tenth time this entire conversation.

"I mean what I say, Sara. He may seem aloof half the time, but he does have feelings for you."

The words shut me up and I looked at her seriously, "I... I know I don't talk about myself all that much, but I do like him... I think," I said, hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes before getting up. "You know what you want, Sara. Do what you'd like. You're a grown girl." She sashayed out the door, another movement I was envious of.

I continued to watch her walk away before turning to the coffee mug in front of me. She did have a point. Only I would know what I wanted. And only I could do what I needed to do. Damn it! I was a grown woman and I didn't need to be afraid of a little crush... Right? What was it about this boy-man, to steal from Catherine, that had me shaking in my boots?

I rolled my eyes as I continued to ponder. Okay, it had nothing to do with Greg. Well, kind of. I just always wonder what the hell he saw in me. I wasn't appealing in any way. Not like Catherine anyway. She could walk into the room and all eyes would follow her. I'd walk into a room and all anyone would see was some tall skinny girl and proceed to go on with their business. But he didn't. He'd really look at me. He'd laugh with me, joke with me, TALK with me. I didn't know exactly what that meant. Did that mean he was interested? Or that he was just like that with everyone? That he could find out how to entertain and interest each and every person in sight.

I sighed as I got up from my chair, making a small decision. Taking a look at the clock there, I hurriedly left the break room after dumping my completely cold cup of coffee and headed purposely for the lockers. Finding the person I wanted, I called out his name, "Hey, Greg!" He turned to look at me curiously, and I gulped back my desire to escape, "Any chance you're free?"


	10. Dreams, Rating: T to M, Greg & Sara

**Title:** Dreams  
**Fandom:** CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters:** Greg Sanders/Sara Sidle, with mention of Gil Grissom  
**Prompt:** #14. Chair  
**Word Count:** 1589  
**Rating:** PG-13 to an R (somewhat)  
**Summary:** _It was definitely a sight to behold._  
**Author's Notes:** Wasn't sure what to rate it. I mean, it has a bit of curse. (Mainly concentrated to one paragraph.) And has scenes leading up to sex but.. alas, no sex for Greg. Sorry. Please note, basically most takes place while Greg's still a lab tech. The end, which might seem familiar, takes place during the episode "Big Middle" which is during season 6 (I think). And this is long... ;; Don't know why so long.

It was definitely a sight to behold. Greg Sanders was hunched over the break room table, sleeping away during his break. His head was leaning against his arm while it faced the room's door and anyone who might just glance into the room might think that he was glaring at them, but with shut eyes, of course. He suddenly broke out into a smile as though something good was happening in his dream.

"Hey, Greg! Nice dream!" A voice yelled loudly, startling him out of his deep sleep and out of his not so comfortable chair. Groaning, Greg blinked his eyes several times and patted himself down, making sure that every bit of him was still there.

He stumbled to grab the table and lift himself up when he noticed that the person who yelled at him had sat down. It became even worse when said person was exactly the same person he had been dreaming off. And not so much in the way she would've liked. His hand slipped off the table and he fell back to the floor, landing on his ass once again.

"Wow, Greg. You're usually not that clumsy," Sara Sidle noted as she started to prepare her small salad. She watched as he groaned and again grabbed hold of the table to push himself onto the chair. Pointing at the side of her mouth, she told him, "Uh, Greg? A little drool."

Greg patted the side of his face and as soon as he felt some of his drool, he wiped it off as quickly as he could. Giving an awkward smile to Sara, he slumped over the table once again, embarrassed completely. The entire room was oddly quiet, the only sounds he could hear were his own breathing and Sara's occasionally munching. This just led him to think about other things, such as the nice but not so nice, dream that he had just had. 

"So... Whatcha thinking about?" Sara's voice once again broke through his thoughts.

Greg looked up at her and watched as suddenly his vision shifted so that what he had seen in his dream was projected onto his dream girl. Yeah... He wasn't sure he should really answer that-

He opened his eyes as though for the first time that day and blinked several times after to make sure he wouldn't "wake up" from what he was seeing. He could hardly believe his own eyes as he entered his bedroom after a VERY long shift to find Sara... on his bed... wearing obviously very little. 

He swallowed hard, wondering what he had done to get such a ... gift? He felt his blood rush, concentrated to an area below the belt. Soon, he didn't care if this was real or a dream. All he cared was that it wouldn't end. He started to approach the bed slowly, not knowing if any sudden movements would cause Sara to just leave suddenly.

She instead shifted, smiling at him brightly (something that she rarely did), and beckoned him closer. She purred softly, patting the empty space next to her, "Relax, Greg. Lie down here."

Greg felt the room heating up quickly and tugged at his collar slightly. (Now he knew something was wrong because he definitely did not regularly wear collars. Who would when all you do is stay in a lab?) He soon was next to the bed and who was he to resist the alluring stare of Sara Sidle, the one person he had been desiring for a long time? It was like holding candy in front of a child and telling them they could take it if they'd like.

She purred once more, "On your back, Greg." And he knew it had to be a dream then, because when in hell's name did Sara purr? Not one to argue though, Greg quickly moved onto the bed. His mind started to pound, as did other parts of him. It escalated even more when Sara straddled him, pining him onto the bed. Gulping again for probably the twentieth time since this dream began, he stared at Sara, whose hands were starting to wander.

"Oh... Greg." Her sing-song voice called out. Greg gasped loudly when suddenly his vision started to faze. Moaning, he reached out to touch her only to discover his hands pass through air. Especially when there happened to be no Sara in front of him anymore. And they were no longer in his bedroom. And the REAL Sara was in front of him in the middle of the break room, looking rather bewildered at him. "Um, Greg? Did you just daze off on me?"

Groggily, Greg moaned before looking up at her. "Sorry," he muttered, his throat rather dry. He sighed again, wondering why the hell he felt so exhausted. He supposed the lack of sleep he had gotten for 4 days might've been the cause. After all, 8 hours of sleep for the entirety of those 4 days was probably not the best idea he had had in a long time.

His eyes started to blur again and Greg was almost afraid he had fallen asleep again. That was, until he realized that he was still in the break room and Sara was still in front of him. Then things began to change. Sara was not exactly in proper attire for work. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken (which he wasn't), she was basically wearing the same she had in his last dream. The same lingerie set. The same hairstyle (not that she changed it much) but it seemed to be more... silky and soft (was one way of putting it). He was even sure she was wearing the same perfume.

Breathing irradically, he murmured an "Oh, shit," right before Sara pushed the table away from her and Greg. He stiffened in his seat with wide eyes, wondering how far this dream would go. Sara got up from her chair in such a manner that Greg wasn't sure if the word sensual was even appropriate anymore. She slowly closed their distance (which he was grateful took less time than in most of his dreams) and soon straddled his lap. Without any ounce of hesitation, she took his head in hers and immediately brought their lips together.

Wanting to move even more, he suddenly took initative and acted back with as much passion as he had in him (which at this time was a whole lot). His hands rested on her hips while hers clung in his hair, desparately pulling him closer, a motion that was useless considering how close they already were. Soon, he couldn't hold himself back and his hands started to move to places he had only ever dreamed of touching. 

Their lips parted and instead Greg started to trail his kisses along her jaw and down her neck, shoving aside the simple bra strap that laid there. Sara started to moan and soon Greg's blood was boiling. He didn't know how he knew, but he could feel the eye of someone in the distance. Prying himself from Sara and taking a breath that was desparately needed, he shifted slightly to look at the door. 

And hell. Why the shit was his own dream fighting against him? Because fuck! If there was one person he wanted to see less, it'd be his fucking boss. A man who was now looking at the two with wide eyes. And if that didn't get a man down, he didn't know what else would. Greg choked back a curse and didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Now he knew what could top those showing up to work naked dreams. Fuck that. Now, Greg would be more than happy to wake up.

Which he did. To a very irritated Sara. "Damn it, Greg. If you're going to sleep while I'm talking, then at least warn a girl," she snapped before abruptly leaving the break room. Blinking several times, Greg watched her leave and examined himself, glad to know that nothing was ... too uppity (so to speak). Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, vowing never to sleep at work again because shit, if he had dreams like that more often, he didn't know if he wanted those dreams anymore.

Oh, who was he kidding? Like hell he wouldn't want those dreams, just better endings. 

Months later, hell years later, he never had another thought to the dreams that... almost happened. He found that that day was just special and nothing of the sort ever happened again. He had pretty much forgotten them, as a matter of fact. It wasn't until Sara had said a phrase that was so familiar that he actually remembered them again, and this time, in not so much a bad sense of it either.

"Well, that's what the pulley is for, Greg, so relax and lie down on your back," the female smiled as she held onto the rope.

Sighing, because damn if that girl didn't have him wrapped around her finger, he proceeded to lay on the mattress. He smiled and jokingly, "You know, this is exactly like a dream I had once, except it wasn't a garage. And Grissom wasn't watching." Looking straight at her, he knew she was amused and decided to go in for the kill, "That was a different dream."

Just as an add in. I'm so not good at... semi sex scenes? coughs So all the badness. I apologize. Not used to it.


	11. Jobs, Rating: K, Greg

**Title:** Jobs  
**Fandom:** CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters:** Greg Sanders  
**Prompt:** #47. Kill  
**Word Count:** 266  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** _He loved his job. That was the simple thing._  
**Author's Note:** Sweet and short. I just started writing and this came out of it.

He loved his job. That was the simple thing. He just wished he didn't have it. Contradictory, he supposed, but it made sense in his head. It was one thing to sit in his cozy lab chair and just compare DNA samples. That was safe. That was indoors. There was nothing personal in his work. If the person matched, they matched. If that was a good thing, so be it. If it was a bad thing, so be it too. He was impartial.

So he thought he was. No, no. Of course, his regular self just had to go the extra mile. He had to be over-achieving AS USUAL. Didn't his parents warn him against this? Or did they applaud it? He had gotten so many mixed reviews since then that he just didn't remember anymore.

But what he really wanted to know is if he was so eager to go that extra mile, did it have to be becoming a CSI? Did he really want to see those gruesome bodies? The guilty faces that went along with them? The sordid secrets that humans are just bound to hide? To discover what it really is to mean "killing" someone? 

No.

Never.

Not one ounce of desire.

Yet, it's just what he did. He went that extra mile. He took that courageous step. And did he regret? Not really. No. He loved his job. Plain and simple.

Now if only people stopped killing for the strangest reason. Wouldn't that be the day?

...Then again, he'd be out of a job.


	12. Leaving It All Behind, Rating: K, GrSara

**Title:** Leaving It All Behind  
**Fandom:** CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters:** Greg Sanders/Sara Sidle, slight Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle  
**Prompt:** #03. Sunrise  
**Word Count:** 581  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** _He should've known better than to go there._  
**Author's Note:** Somewhat short and somewhat angsty... tear

"I thought you'd be out here," someone said from behind him. In an instant, he recognized the voice and stiffened in reply. She sat beside him on the rooftop of the building and stared out into the sky along with him.

He should've known better than to go there. It had become his habit over the years to go there just to catch the sunrise and Sara, being as observant as she was, noticed it. And after a while, he let her join him. Which, in hindsight, was a dumb move, to say the least. Now she thought she could join him whenever she liked.

He didn't think he liked that.

She spoke again, as though knowing that he wouldn't speak, "Are you okay?" Greg noticed the hint of softness in her voice, a tone he wasn't used to because she hadn't had a need to be soft with him anymore. He was a little peeved about that. No. Make that extremely pissed.

"Why should you care?" He snarked, a harshness in his voice to match with her softness. He couldn't understand why she was even there. She should be downstairs, celebrating with the rest of the team. Not up here. Trying to comfort him.

He didn't need comfort.

Especially not from her.

He didn't need to glance at her to see the hurt in her face. She wouldn't cry; that wasn't like her. No. She'd look wounded and he'd feel guilty and he did not want to feel guilty this time. No. Not this time. She hurt him. This was her problem. He wasn't going to be the nice guy this time.

"Don't do this, Greg," she murmured, with that sickening softness still there.

His eyes started to burn and Greg couldn't focus anymore on the start of the rising sun. The colors started to blur together and he didn't know if he was in the right state of mind to even tell anyone what each color was. He wouldn't look at her. He resented her for coming up here. He despised her for thinking he needed to be comforted. But he especially HATED her for leaving him. Leaving him when all he wanted to do was love her.

He especially hated her for thinking that the fact that she was now engaged to Grissom would hurt him so much.

Who'd she think she was? Sara Sidle, the center of Greg Sander's universe?

She must have a huge ego.

Grunting, he got up from his seat against the inside edge of the roof. Without looking at her, he started his trek towards the only exit.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she half cried to him and this time, Greg definitely didn't need to turn around.

Stopping in his tracks, he couldn't bare to turn around. He hadn't looked at her throughout the entire "exchange" for fear of breaking down and if he looked at her now, he was sure he would. He took in a deep breath and took minutes to calm his nerves down. "Yeah," he started, "Tell Grissom I quit."

The sharp take-in of breath wasn't hard to miss in the quiet of the rooftop and it restarted Greg's motion to the door.

She wouldn't cry. Greg was sure of that.

He wasn't so sure he wouldn't.


	13. Pretending, Rating: T, Greg & Sara

**Title:** Pretending  
**Fandom:** CSI: Crime Scene Investigation  
**Characters:** Greg Sanders/Sara Sidle, hint of Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle  
**Prompt:** #48. Light  
**Word Count:** 794  
**Rating:** PG-13 for one curse.  
**Summary:** _For some reason, he stopped midway. Something was off here._  
**Author's Note:** You know, I think that I'm almost incapable of writing HAPPY Greg/Sara. I vow to do it at least once... Hopefully. At least now you know that this fic is angsty and sad. ;; It's pretty much the prequel for Leaving It All Behind but one doesn't need to read the other in order to get a view of each other. (And I'm definitely not sure if that sentence even made sense.)

It had been taped to the door of his locker and said in not so many words to go up to the rooftop before shift started. Rarely was Greg ever up on the rooftop unless it was for the sunrise, so it was a big twist when Sara asked him to go for sunset. He supposed, as he walked up the stairs, that maybe she wanted to start a new tradition. Beginning with sunset and ending the day with sunrise. It seemed logical to him and since he lived with logic, he wanted to believe it much more. That's why he ignored the feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach for the past couple of days.

Opening the door, he found the sky still mildly bright. The sun hadn't set just yet and the reds of the day were still showing in the horizon. Standing near the edge with her back to him was Sara. Smiling to himself, he started his walk towards her.

For some reason, he stopped midway. Something was off here. Sara seemed tense from her position. Her arms were wrapped around her and Greg could see the pressure her hands were making from clinging so hard. Staring, the feeling of dread came right back up and he didn't know if he could ignore it anymore.

Thinking quickly, he wondered if he could perhaps turn around now and walk away. He did not want to hear what she might or would say. He already had a feeling that he knew. Becoming a CSI was definitely something that opened his eyes, and seeing his boss and his girlfriend interact was definitely eye-widening.

Before he could even turn around, she turned first. This time, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this was definitely not going to be a good meeting. Greg looked at Sara, REALLY looked at her, and his heart broke in half. Her face just emulated with sadness and despite what he knew of her, she seemed to have faint hints of tears on her cheeks.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered to himself. He could feel a strong desire to hug her and when his arms went out to reach her, the distance between them was blatantly obvious. He dropped them quickly and just looked at her, begging her not to do what she would do.

Sara took in a breath before shakily saying, "We can't do this anymore, Greg."

Holding back his emotions, he managed to say, "Do what?" without breaking down in tears. He wasn't about to show how much he hurt. To give her anymore than she already had of him.

"We're pretending!" she screamed at him, almost breaking there and then. Greg flinched at the tone of her voice, and was amazed that she seemed so angry at him. He refused to say anything at this point. He wanted her to lay out her cards. It was almost as though she read his mind, because she soon continued her thought. "We're pretending to be happy. We're pretending that we're this great couple. We're not. We're not anymore," she ended, much softer than when she began.

Greg felt his heart pounding heavily in his chest, and briefly wondered if she could hear it. If she could hear just what she was doing to him. They hadn't been pretending to him. He had genuinely believed that they'd been happy together. He thought there had been a little awkwardness lately, but other than that... there had been no problems. Wasn't that how it was?

He strode towards her slowly, pain likely showed in his face and all she did was watch him. She didn't move. She barely took a breath. When he was finally within reach, he lifted his arm to touch her. Whether to hug her or just to feel her, he didn't know. She flinched though and that was all it took for Greg to know that he wasn't wanted.

Lowering his head, he refused to look at her. They stood there in silence, Greg looking down and Sara looking who knew where. It had to have been tens of minutes later before he finally said something. "Fine," he said. His voice wasn't cold. It wasn't harsh. It was empty, just like he felt at the moment.

He didn't know how long after that did Sara start to move. All he knew was that when he finally felt ready to leave, she wasn't there anymore. He looked up into the sky and bleakly noted that the sun had finally set for the day.

With a snort, he faintly thought of that's just how he felt. The light had definitely left.

Before he left the rooftop, he briefly reflected that at least she hadn't done it during sunrise. At least one thing was still safe.


End file.
